


Second Chance

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Homeward Bound [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Detective Stiles, Dom Stiles, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent due to medication, Feels, Hospital Sex, Hurt Scott, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Porn, Porn With Plot, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Sciles, Sub Scott McCall, Teen Wolf AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:36:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott tried to kill himself and Stiles doesn't know how to save him. A hospital visit turns into a dubiously consensual encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chance

The rest of the interrogations had gone off without a hitch, probably because Allison was taking the lead, and aided infinitely by how much more willing Isaac Lahey was to throw shit at his former masters. He’d work himself into a frenzy, ardent in his convictions, only to fold like a pack of cards at the smallest hint of disapproval. Allison was careful. Stiles wondered if the werewolf could smell pity. 

He’d bore the brunt of his supervisor’s disapproval, and was well on his way to reviewing what the attorney general’s office demanded, when he received the call. Technically, he should have been off shift by now. Allison was only on her second cup of coffee, pacing herself for the night ahead.

Dr. Tate was remarkably calm, even when she was telling him Scott’s episode had nearly ended fatally. 

The entire drive back to Eichen House felt like the first time he’d made the trip, back when he couldn’t believe who he’d found but didn’t dare visit any other theory. He didn’t know what to believe now. 

It was a matter of paperwork. Additional measures were already in place in case Scott displayed behaviors that seemed just as - deliberate. They just needed to know what would happen if the worst had a chance to occur. They wanted to know who would get the body. Stiles left his jacket at the office. It felt like he’d left his stomach there too.

He could piece together, if he concentrated hard enough, fragments of the demands he’d made, demands of explanations and demands of privacy, pleas to any who’d listen and threats when they didn’t. But in the end, Stiles didn’t want to be where he ended up, in one of the infirmary’s single rooms, listening to a heart monitor how well his best friend healed himself after he’d had his intestines sewn back into his body. 

He pressed Scott’s hand against his cheek, wary of the IV that fed into his veins, and kissed his knuckles. It was hours before he fell asleep. 

His dreams weren’t easy.

___

Everything hurt, but the pain was a distant, disconnected sort of ache. His body felt heavy, muscles replaced by lead and unresponsive. He didn’t want to move anyways, floating peacefully on sedatives and painkillers. It was nice to have the worries stripped away, nothing mattered except breathing and the muted insistent sounds of the electronic beating of his heart.

He wasn’t sure how long he drifted between waking and sleeping before reality slowly started to intrude. The dull ache intensified, his stomach pulling painfully as he shifted on the bed. Scott tried to put a hand to the wound but found his wrists strapped down in case he tried to hurt himself again. It was too much effort to fight against them, escape wasn’t his plan anymore. He was just tired of everything and wished he could stay asleep.

With a soft sigh, Scott blinked blurry eyes open and tried to focus on the ceiling above him. The room smelled like antiseptic and medicine and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. The humming and beeping of the machines seemed overly loud, everything hypersensitive and painful. He’d failed… He’d failed again. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to take his own life, though he thought it might be more successful than trying to set himself on fire. Why hadn’t they just put him out of his misery? There was no way to help him, he was too broken. There was nothing human left in him at all.

Scott wasn’t alone, he could feel the presence beside of him, recognizing it without having to look. There wasn’t a way to describe it, just an innate knowledge that his other half was here. He tried to sit up, pulling weakly against the straps before relaxing back down onto the hospital bed. The human shouldn’t be here, Scott had to send him away. His friend couldn’t see him like this. He opened his mouth to order him out of the room, but only managed to croak brokenly. “Stiles?”

___

It was enough.

Stiles had been curled into Scott’s bedside, head resting just beneath his werewolf’s bound hand. His lips were parted, a stream of drool already caked to his chin and the edge of Scott’s bedding. His work shirt was folded under his head, leaving him in a cotton tank that once upon a time, would have proudly displayed the scratches Scott left across his shoulder blades. They’d only had two days.

He jostled like he’d been shaken, blinking away the gunk caked on his lids, and before he could even piece together where he was, he was smiling. Because Scott was there. Because Scott was awake and looking for him.

The rest of the world caught up too soon, and it was easy to wipe the sleep from his eyes when moisture caught on his lashes. He squeezed Scott’s hand without permission, pulling himself to his feet.

He wanted to hold him. He wanted to make sure he was in one piece, and guarantee that the bandages around his middle were temporary. He didn’t want to have to cling to the memory of what Scott’s kiss tasted like. It might have been his last. If he could avoid that, he would.

He pressed a kiss to Scott’s brow, biting back a million responses. _Why did you do that? How could you do that to me? To yourself? What the fuck were you thinking? When did you get so good at breaking my heart?_

"Do you want me to go?" He whispered, and it felt like the machines beeping by Scott’s side could drown him out. It would be better if they did, maybe. Stiles knew he had to, but he didn’t want to do the right thing. He’d always thought they’d be the ones to cheat the system.

___

He knew what he was supposed to say, but the words wouldn’t come. He was defeated, crushed completely with no fight left. His last ditch effort to escape had failed and he didn’t have the strength to do the right thing anymore. Mutely, Scott shook his head, trying to reach for his friend but stopped by the straps around his wrists.

Why couldn’t Stiles just let go? No matter how many times he lost control or how hard he pushed the human away, Stiles always came back. He was too stubborn for his own good, it would get him killed in the end but Scott was too scared and too hurt to let go of him now. Being a good person had never helped him before, he was weak. There was only so long a man could keep fighting, better to give up and accept it.

“I’m sorry.” It hurt to speak, throat torn raw like he’d been screaming and he swallowed painfully. “I’m s-so sorry, Stiles. I can’t do this, I’m not strong enough. I need you, please d-don’t leave me.” Scott tried to sit up again, gasping quietly at the pain that sliced across his midsection. Was it healing? How long had it been, it should have healed more than this by now unless…unless he’d been keeping it from healing.

“Please don’t worry, it’s okay. Everything’s okay, Stiles, just stay for a little while? I promise I won’t do anything I’m tired. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

___

"Shh- shh," Stiles urged, cupping Scott’s cheek, and brushing his thumb across the curve of his lip. He wanted to be careful with his werewolf. He wasn’t going to let anything hurt him. Scott had been through enough of that. If he could, he’d press Scott into the mattress, wrap himself around him like he never dreamed they’d be pulled apart. There were still scars across Scott’s throat. They looked like something had slashed it to ribbons.

"It’s not your fault, Scott. None of this was your fault. You’re strong. You’re so strong, and brave. You’ve gotten so far, and you’re amazing, Scott. I’m not going anywhere, okay?" He murmured, senseless encouragements that bled together, soothing in tone rather than content. Bent over his friend, he ran his hands through Scott’s hair, trying to urge him to calm. He tried to calm the frantic beat of Scott’s pulse, and wipe away his worries.

Scott was still trying to reassure him. Stiles loved him, even as he wanted to shake him.

"We’re okay, Scott. You and me? We’re okay. Your hair’s all floppy, dude, I missed this." _I missed you. I love you. I’m scared for you._ He couldn’t lie to a werewolf, but he could omit like the best of them. Right now, he thought Scott would want to believe him, too.

___

The faintest smile ghosted across his lips as Scott’s eyes fluttered closed. “Haven’t cut it since I’ve been here. Must be a mess by now, I haven’t seen a mirror in a long time.” He wasn’t strong, he was a coward and he knew it, but Scott was willing to put all of his trust in Stiles for now.  “We’re okay. We’re okay…”

The drugs made the corners of his vision hazy, but he focused on Stiles’s voice and the feel of his hands, relaxing under the touch. This was good, he could handle this. He could almost believe that everything was going to be okay as long as he tried to forget the fact he’d nearly eviscerated himself on purpose. “You win.” He grated, voice a low whisper. “I can’t get rid of you, can I?”

Scott chased his fingers, trying to nuzzle against his hand and kiss his skin. Was he just trying to believe the lie again? It was the happiest he’d been for as long as he remembered, he didn’t care If it was the truth or not. He didn’t care about anything anymore, he just wanted Stiles to make everything else stop. “I didn’t mean to worry you, I wasn’t thinking. I just…I don’t know any other way. When I was with _him_ , I at least knew what to do. There wasn’t anything to risk but myself, Stiles. I don’t know how to keep you safe when I want you so much.

___

Scott was more concerned about Stiles’ feeling then the fact that his guts had been dragged across an interrogation room floor. Stiles closed his eyes, and kissed Scott hard enough to bruise. 

His hands lingered on straps Scott had once broken through, and there was a camera in the room somewhere, real high-tech, top of the line, the best the military would give. Stiles was confident they’d know exactly when he gave their rules a big ‘fuck you.’

He undid them one by one, and pulled away from Scott only long enough for him to climb into the side of his bed that didn’t have three billion wires crossing over it. Stiles counted.

"I’ll  _always_ win this. No contest.” He promised, kissing the shell of Scott’s ear, before maneuvering so Scott could rest his head on his chest. If they’d given him the right dosage, he wouldn’t need those straps anyway. He distracted Scott. He distracted himself, kissing down his jaw, finding the soft swell of petal lips and licking them open. He made it last. He made it count, so if this all went away in the morning, he’d have memories worth keeping.

With Scott, they were all worth keeping.

"Tomorrow we’ll talk about that. We’ll figure out what to do." Tomorrow, the fabled land of success and triumph - only this time, they’d make it work. They had to. "But I need you to agree, right now, no matter what, I’m staying. You let me stay."

___

Scott couldn’t argue, pliant under Stiles’s mouth and kissing back as eagerly as he could. He was surprised to find the straps unbuckled but grateful, rubbing his wrists and remaining still. There was no way he’d be making an escape even if he wanted to and nowhere for him to go if he tried. He wasn’t sure his legs were working anyways.

He curled his body against the human beside him, trying to touch as much as possible. Gentle hands traced down Stiles’s chest, sweet and tired and completely distracted by his lips. It was impossible to think of anything but the feel of them against his skin. Scott deepened the kiss, annoyed at how his body felt so sluggish and refused to respond. He could ignore the pain in his stomach, the raw throat, the IVs and the cameras and fuck everything, all he wanted was this. All he ever wanted was this.

“Stay.” He murmured, drugged and content. Scott was ready to agree to anything as long as Stiles didn’t stop that amazing thing he did with his tongue. “I want you to stay. Don’t leave me, Stiles, I need you. I was wrong, I need you so much.” He fussed at the wires, wanting them gone and feeling infuriatingly clumsy.

“I want…” He tried to growl, coughing as it tore his throat. “It’s not fair, I hate this. I just want you. Only you, Stiles.”

___

Stiles loved hearing that. Perhaps it was troubling. Perhaps it was selfish, but Scott giving himself up to him was the most satisfying promise he’d ever heard. It overwhelmed him, energy coursing through his veins, and he coaxed Scott into another kiss and another and another. A bright thrill surged up his spine at the other man’s motions, realizing how easy it would be to hold his werewolf down, to finally make him see how much Stiles wanted him, how much he’d always wanted him. 

He held Scott through his coughing spell and resisted the urge to look at his bandages. Scott shouldn’t have any, not anymore. Stiles had no problem admitting he was protective of his werewolf. He might have had a problem determining just where his boundaries laid. 

"Then we’re on the same page, dude. All I want is to get you out of here…" he murmured, burying his face in soft dark locks that really were getting out of hand. He brushed them back so he could kiss Scott’s forehead. 

He brought Scott’s hands to his lips, kissing across his knuckles, nipping at the tips of fingers that could so easily form claws. He tried not to jostle the IV. He hoped it made a difference. “I need you, Scott. You have no idea… How much I missed you. How hard it was to breathe without you - you don’t know… I owe you dinner. I owe you a day at the beach, and anything - everything you  want.

___

Scott kissed until he was dizzy with it, cursing his body and the awkward hospital bed. It was too easy to slip into this role, Stiles just fitting into his heart like a missing piece. Everything between them was frighteningly easy and he could stay like this forever if given the chance. He wasn’t sure if it was Stiles or the drugs or his own need for this, but he felt completely relaxed and boneless. He nuzzled down against the human’s collarbone, nipping lazily at the skin.

“Get me out of here. Somewhere that they’re not always watching. Also I think my dick’s not working…also also might be a little bit on medication and things are a little not right.” He held out his hand, running his thumb over the IV line but not pulling it out. Whatever it was, it kept the pain distant and manageable, turning everything into a lovely haze.

He smiled, unable to keep his genuine happiness hidden in his current state and clumsily traced his fingertips down Stiles’s face, utterly fascinated by the way his mouth moved. God, he loved that mouth, just the memory of it and desperate teenage imagination had gotten him off for years. “I love you.” The words slipped out almost unnoticed as Scott dragged a finger across Stiles’s bottom lip. “I just want you, don’t be sad, dude. You’re perfect and it scares me. Don’t worry, okay? I won’t leave you, I’m right here.”

The wolf couldn’t speak anymore, throat scraped ragged and in pain.  Scott curled his fingers around his friend’s jaw, coaxing him closer to kiss until he couldn’t breathe and the clawed wounds around his throat began to heal.

___

"You’re so high, dude," Stiles said. The look on his face was one of open adoration. That had never changed, not from when they were twelve and Scott had gotten sick off of too much Halloween candy, and not now when things seemed far more bleak, but kissing was the new normal. That almost fixed everything. They’d take care of the rest.

His hands scratched lightly at his werewolf’s hips. Stiles had been worried he’d have to stop his languid exploration of skin to hold Scott down, but the IV remained undisturbed. Scott was pulling him down, and Stiles always wanted to go. He tried to lick the growl out of his best friend’s mouth, wishing he could heal by sheer will alone.

_ Don’t leave me, not again. I couldn’t take it. _

"Love you, too," he rasped, because hearing it said back made him want to scream it from the mountain tops and swim dangerous rivers and share his food. "An’I’m gonna fix your dick if it’s the last thing I do. Don’t even worry about it."

He wanted to roll Scott over and tumble between their sheets. He wanted sloppy, tipsy sex that he’d only ever imagined with the beautiful boy who’d disappeared, and maybe Selena Gomez. There were wires everywhere, and the beat of an ECG did not mood music make, but Scott tasted like liquor, spreading warmth and leaving him flushed. Stiles could resist anything but temptation.

He slipped his fingers beneath the garter of Scott’s hospital pants, teeth grazing over his partner’s lower lip. Those lips were built to suck on things, to kiss and abuse, and Stiles wanted to be the best torture Scott ever knew. “Ohmygod, I’m never gonna walk into a hospital without a hard on, dude. S’all your fault.”

___

“No I’m not.” Scott argued back, bumping his nose against Stiles’s. “Am I? It just feels good, nothing hurts anymore. Not very much.” The dull ache of his stomach wounds caught sharp and gasping every once in a while when he pulled in the wrong direction, but they were mostly muted by the narcotic drip. He wasn’t even sure what they’d given him…were giving him? All Scott knew was that he was happy and safe and utterly, lethargically relaxed like he hadn’t been since he was a teenager and human. His fuzzy brain had no ability to worry or even to focus on anything besides the hypersensitive rush from all of his senses, nerves sparking beneath the skin at every gentle caress.

The wolf smiled again, lost in the feeling of Stiles and his mouth, hoping his sluggish body would finally take note of the things his mind wanted. Curious fingers connected the freckles along his cheek, drawing invisible pictures into the human’s skin and rambling quietly. “Can you fix it? Mmmm…if anyone can, I trust you. I’m not worried, it’s good, dude.”

Scott gave a startled gasp into the kiss, goldfish brain having a difficult time keeping up as hands moved beneath his clothes and the wolf closed his eyes, settling his hips. The machines beside the bed picked up the rapid spike in his heart rate, werewolf constitution fighting against the drugs in his system. He gave a wordless plea, groan trailing off into a laugh. “S’not my fault, you’re just the weird one getting off in a..ah…. _Stiles_.”

___

This was wrong this was wrong this was wrong, but it had been over a month, and he missed Scott so much, so much. Scott was beautiful, spread out and pliant beneath his fingers. Stiles adjusted, spreading his legs, until Scott’s back was pressed up against his chest, and Stiles’ cock pressed against the curve of his ass, the fabric of his pants mockingly thin. What would they think? Stiles wondered. Maybe they would see Scott changing one master for the next, albeit a more careful one, one who’d never want to hurt who he’d been gifted.

"Can I make you feel good, Scott?" He asked, nearly purring into his partner’s ear, and he could pretend it was a matter of choice. He nipped the shell of soft skin, warm breath tickling where his teeth teased. His palm was already pressed flush against Scott’s dick, tracing the long line of his shaft. He thought about putting Scott on display, pushing into him and spreading him on his hard cock. He thought about mirrors on the ceiling, Scott watching himself come apart, leaving a mess all over his chest.

If Stiles moved his hand up, he would feel the bandages around Scott’s middle where unforgiving claws had slashed through delicate skin. He didn’t.

He thought about wrapping Scott in blankets, and showing him Starbucks’ new coffee-flavored sugar-drink, and being greeted by the sweetest smile in the world, first thing in the morning. “I want to make you cum.”

The machine by his bedside automatically increased his dosage. Scott wasn’t going anywhere.

___

Scott couldn’t fight this, he didn’t want to. He was safe in Stiles’s hands and trusted his friend completely, submitting beneath them with small eager noises. His body finally fought through the medication and grew hard as the human palmed him. The wolf tried to arch into the feeling, hissing slightly as it pulled against the wounds in his stomach and settled back against Stiles with a huff of irritation. He rolled his hips, ignoring the pain in favor of friction.

“Please Stiles, yes!” He choked out the words before he even realized he spoke, twisting to wrap his arms around the human’s neck and thread his fingers through Stiles’s hair. It had been so long and there had never been enough time, the memory of his mouth never seemed to give Scott a moment of peace and he kept replaying it over and over again.

The hit of morphine came on slowly, responding to his increased heartrate and Scott’s eyes rolled as the last of the pain was washed away. His body wanted to move but his muscles refused to comply, trapping him in desperate frustration. Everything was overwhelming, the feel of Stiles’s hand and his cock pressed hard against Scott’s ass, the warm liquid joy that made his limbs so heavy, the words that dragged his hazy mind into sudden focus.

He bit his bottom lip, eyes wide and blown with need. It didn’t matter that his abdomen was a mass of claw marks or the fact they balanced on a too-narrow hospital bed or that someone was almost certainly watching, Scott wanted this. He nodded slowly, crooked grin firmly in place.

___

Nothing was hotter than Scott saying yes. The way he moaned Stiles’ name was a close second.

He could feel tremor of tension rippling across Scott’s frame, but his werewolf wasn’t moving. It took Stiles a second to realize that wasn’t a bad thing, and when he did, his entire body shuddered with anticipation. Scott holding himself open, Scott biting back every sound, Scott taking everything Stiles wanted to give, keening for the chance to move-

"Oh, fuck…" Stiles whispered obscenely, a throaty growl against Scott’s ear. He licked his palm before sliding it over Scott’s cock, thumb pressing into the slit of its head, catching precome and smearing it down his shaft. He kept the pressure steady, his strokes agonizingly slow, but his hips canted like he was already tearing Scott apart, the long curve of his dick sliding against warm skin.

"I want to fuck you open, Scott," He rasped, he promised, dragging his free hand across Scott’s chest, tweaking his nipples through his shirt, the barest of pleasures. "Just like this, all night long… Do you want it? Do you want it on your knees or on your back? I can’t hear you, Scott."

___

Awkward hands twisted clumsily into the sheets as his breathing caught, pleasure chasing the bliss in his veins and leaving the world spinning beneath him. He couldn’t keep himself from jerking up into Stiles’s grip, the slow rhythm driving him insane. Every nerve felt hypersensitive, the feel of the human’s cock against his body had the pleas falling from his lips. He was loud and didn’t care, begging for more.

“Oh god, Stiles.” It was hard to piece his thoughts together enough for words, Stiles’s hand twisting _just_ right around the head of his cock and he threw his head back with a moan. It was sick how much he wanted this, to just give in to every demand and let himself get pulled under. He distantly knew that this was wrong, but Stiles’s breath was hot on his skin and he _growled_ and Scott’s entire body clenched.

“M-my knees.” He could barely get the words out, a rush of shame sweeping through him but he met the human’s eyes with a nervous intensity. “I want to be on my knees for you, Stiles. I want you to fuck me like that. Just tell me what you want, I’ll do anything.”

___

Stiles moved like he wanted to coax every sound out of his lover. He dragged his teeth across Scott’s throat, hungry and shameless, catching sweat on his tongue. He wanted to be close enough to feel Scott’s pulse. He wanted Scott to scream his name like he was born for it. His hips canted in earnest, eyes falling shut, and it was too easy to recall slick, wet pressure, pink lips spread stretched wide. 

"I want to make you feel good," he rasped, words slurring with haste and drunken lust. His fingers twisted until Scott’s nipples pebbled beneath his touch, only to drag up his shoulders and tangle in soft locks. "I want to bend you over my desk, eat you out til you scream. Fuck you til I can’t take it anymore God you’d look so good with cum on your face… "

He tugged until Scott bared his throat, submissive and beautiful, so beautiful and all his. Stiles would leave marks for the world to see if he could. He needed the world to know. Scott had chosen him. Stiles was never giving him back. 

"In my bed, make you cum on my sheets, I want you I want you Scott oh God I want you-" His voice hitched, words lost in a breathless keen. Stiles couldn’t keep rhythm, each thrust turning frantic, his fingers curled tight around Scott’s cock, so impatient, so demanding. He didn’t know how to be any other way.

___

Scott couldn’t breathe, begging for more as he gasped for air. When had Stiles learned to talk like that? He had always played too rough, too possessive and too fearless even when they were kids. Scott had always been the one to bend to his friend’s bad ideas, willing to follow him anywhere and ready to agree to any scheme that would no doubt land them both in trouble. He bent to Stiles’s will again now, moaning as his head fell back back to expose his throat.

He wanted this humiliation and obedience under Stiles’s hand, feeling guilty at how much he liked this and how his entire body shook at just the growled promises. The word ‘master’ trembled on his lips, threatening escape. He wanted to give himself over completely, to be owned again. It made everything feel safe, giving up all control and trusting Stiles to take care of him. He wanted to be marked, to be fucked and denied until he begged for release, he wanted Stiles to cum on his face so he could lick himself clean. Scott wanted so desperately to say it, but was afraid of the word.

“Fuck me, Stiles, fuck me!” The wolf wailed, overwhelmed by too much pleasure jolting through too raw nerves. “I feel…ah…I-I, STILES!” He fell apart with a sob, wracked with euphoria that caused drug heavy limbs to writhe. Something broke in the wound, red staining the gauze as he came over his stomach and dripped down Stiles’s hand.

___

It was a gasp, a soft, subtle thing, like Scott couldn’t find enough air in the room that gave Stiles pause. Then Scott was tensing, his features going slack, an unbridled moan ripping through his throat, and Stiles found his new favorite thing in the world. He palmed Scott through his climax, struggling to keep his own body carefully still, even if he couldn’t stop the shivers that surged through his thighs.

Cum pooled in his palm, slipping through his fingers, but he lapped it off his hand with smug satisfaction. He only hesitated a beat before smearing the rest across Scott’s mouth and jaw, the smell of sex and sweat almost as dizzying as the throbbing heat in his groin. Stiles propped himself on his elbow, looking down at his werewolf with proprietary glee. He was right.

Scott looked delicious.

He straddled Scott’s hip, grinding into him at a more leisurely pace as he licked Scott’s cum off his face, trying to make this last and already knowing he wouldn’t succeed. “Then I’ll take you to bed,” he whispered, words pressed into tanned skin. Stiles’ eyes felt too heavy, but his limbs were on fire. He didn’t dare stop. “I’ll tuck you in, keep you safe. You’ll let me take care of you… You’ll let me love you.”

His posture seized, a choked curse escaping him, and Stiles hadn’t had the chance to pull down his pants before he came. He collapsed against Scott’s side, groaning long and low as he tried to fold himself atop his partner. There was a shit-eating grin on his face, but Stiles felt like he deserved it.

"Love you," he mumbled, practically floating in the aftermath.  _I win,_  he thought in the privacy of his mind. 

Stiles noticed the blood too late, and all at once, everything kicked into high gear.

___

Scott panted, smiling as he licked his lips to taste himself and shivered under Stiles’s tongue. It hurt but god, it felt so good. He couldn’t move anymore, barely able to wrap an arm around his human as Stiles rutted against him. “I love you.” He whispered hoarsely. “I’m yours, Stiles.” He never wanted to be anything else, whole and sated and finally unafraid.

He could see his future again, a tenuous hope that he might get better. That they’d let him out of this place and Stiles could help him find something that might still be human inside of him. He could be normal again, choose his own life and not have to face the challenges alone. His friend might be human, but he could bring a werewolf to his knees and make him beg, maybe he didn’t have to worry about Stiles as much as he’d thought.

He kissed that cheeky, self-satisfied grin and lay back on the bed, trying to slow the earth spinning around him. No matter what happened, his friend refused to let him go and Scott was finally ready to accept the help. He couldn’t let go now, not ever again. This was the home he’d been searching for, safe as long as Stiles was with him. It took a supreme amount of effort to reach out and tangle his fingers through the Detective’s hair, exhaustion creeping in and overshadowing the sting of broken stitches and spreading wetness across his stomach.

Nothing else mattered, he couldn’t think anymore. Scott just wanted to wrap Stiles around him and drift in a drug and sex induced haze for as long as possible.

___

"Scott you’re bleeding," Stiles hissed, and Scott’s hand was heavy in his hair, but he had to pull away. He pushed up Scott’s shirt with limbs that ached to rest, but his bandages were stained crimson, and there were infinitely more important things than the way Stiles squelched when he moved. He didn’t think twice about calling a nurse, eyes wide and frantic, but assessing. 

They were going to know exactly how Scott got that, and Stiles wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or scream. Now he could be the responsible one, Stiles thought in that same supercharged vein of disbelief. He couldn’t have waited a fucking night before - God, if Scott was hurt - Scott couldn’t be hurt. Someone was going to say something about the unfastened restraints. As long as they said something while patching up his stitches, Stiles didn’t care. 

"Scott - Scott what else…" He smoothed back Scott’s sweat-kissed locks, fingers skittering down the side of his partner’s head. It took him a second to realize the marks along his throat had faded. Stiles was still tentatively brushing across them when the doors opened.

___

"Shhh…." The wolf waved one hand, still lost to the world but trying so hard to reassure his friend that everything was okay. It barely hurt, barely anything hurt. He was disconnected and drowning in warm comfort and couldn’t make his mind or his body respond anymore. He just wanted to sleep, why couldn’t they leave him alone so he could sleep?

Scott’s head lolled, irritated at the sudden voices and the hands by his stomach. This wasn’t what he wanted, he couldn’t understand who these people were or what they were doing, too out of it to panic but groping for Stiles’s hand. Everyone sounded angry, why was everyone angry? It was too loud and someone was pulling Stiles away. No…no no… “Stiles!” He struggled to murmur the name, slurring over the syllables. Don’t take him, please don’t take him!

It was something about burst stitches, the cool gloved hands carefully pressing against his wounds but there was something in their voices that he didn’t understand. He was bleeding, but the claw marks were shallow, almost healed. The deep wounds that had nearly gutted him completely smoothing over back into unblemished caramel skin. Whatever mental block had kept him from healing on his own was gone and his body rushed to repair the damage almost quickly enough to see. “Pleassse…Stiles…”

___

To their credit, only one of the nurses who responded turned up his nose at the state of the room. Stiles stepped away almost instantly, giving them room to work as he tried to press himself into the wall, as close as he could be to Scott without disturbing the people who might save his life.  There was a frenetic tension in the air. Pointed glances were thrown with ease, and Stiles could tell that someone was going to want to talk to him about Very Important matters. He knew those looks. He’d been getting them since he’d met a brilliant boy over his Batman lunchbox.

There was a moment when everything shifted, and even the air seemed lighter. Stiles didn’t notice when, but he noticed Scott. His focus hadn’t left the werewolf for more than a handful of seconds since everything started. “What - what is it?”

He was almost as concerned with the answer as he was with tangling his fingers with Scott’s. There was blood on his friend’s skin, but its source had disappeared. 

"We’ll find you some new clothes, officer." Was the spectacularly unhelpful answer, but instead of bandaging Scott’s abdomen up, they were cleansing it. Stiles counted that as a win. 

In the morning, Dr. Tate would have another serious conversation regarding the implications of his relationship with Scott. For now, he was content to count down the minutes until he could crawl back into bed with his friend and wave the day away.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing collaborative work/RP that has been fic-i-fied!
> 
> You can find Tmautog's awesome fics on [tumblr](http://tmautog.tumblr.com/tagged/writing) and keep up with this story [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune/TruebornAlpha [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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